


A Day In The Life...Of A Wolf

by Morgan (morgan32)



Category: Lois & Clark, due South
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-06
Updated: 2009-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diefenbaker spends a day in Metropolis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day In The Life...Of A Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due: This story is by me (Morgan) but the actual text was written by my (then) partner, A. We both had a bash at it, but I liked the "voice" A gave to Dief. A was, however, not a big DS fan, hence the "deliberate" mistake.

The day didn’t start well. I mean here I am, a wolf in my prime, being forced to travel — and not even first class, I might add — by aeroplane. You think airsickness is bad? Try having _wolf_-airsickness! If wolves were meant to fly we’d have been given feathers, rather than (luxuriant and very attractive) fur. Frazer, of course, gets to travel in second class, lucky chap. Me? I’m relegated to the hold with the other "livestock". I take exception to being compared with cows and sheep — creatures so stupid they really deserve to be eaten.

I thought it couldn’t get worse, but I hadn’t reckoned on actually _landing_. Oh yes, it’s fine for the humans, who get a comfy chair and a seat belt, but for those of us here in the hold ‘landing’ means being bumped bodily from the comfortable seating position it has taken you the whole journey thus far to achieve, but also it means being ricocheted about the place. If wolves were meant to land at several hundred miles per hour we’d have been given radial tyres.

***

OK, finally back on terra firma as it were. Frazer has been despatched to Metropolis (and what kind of a name is that for a city anyway?) to meet this _Daily Planet_ bunch. I had to travel in a _lift_ — oh the indignity of it. I mean to say, if wolves were meant to travel vertically…oh never mind! Anyway, Frazer and I went to see this bunch. And what a bunch they turned out to be.

There was this strange woman who I think was called "Cat", who seemed rather taken with Frazer. She told him how she "loves a man in uniform" whilst fondling his right buttock. After she’d noticed my prescence she also told him how she "loves a man with a little of the wolf in him". I never did! I resent that filthy accusation! I’ve never laid so much as a paw on Frazer. I’m strictly a wolf-to-wolf kinda guy. Still, I suppose I can’t expect much from someone called "Cat" (Grrrrrrrrrrr!)?

The rest of them seemed harmless enough. Perry White was a bit of a sad old so-and-so. Not only does he not like canines (he sent me out of the building with Jimmy Olsen — must be a cat-person or something) but that Elvis Presley fixation really _has_ to go. Jimmy kept talking about "big scoops" (although I didn’t spot any ice-cream around the office) and ‘danger’, ‘excitement’ and ‘wild-adventure’. If you ask me, this kid looks like the most adventure he could handle would be having a _jam_ doughnut rather than a _lemon_ one.

As for Lois Lane, well, having given the matter some thought, I think the woman is an idiot — or maybe just incredibly near sighted. I mean can she _really _not see that Superman and Clark Kent are one and the same? You’d hardly need to be a rocket scientist (or a keen eyed wolf) to spot it. I mean she spends the whole day ignoring Kent and doing the whole big hotshot, feminist "I don’t need men, I’m a modern woman" schtick and then as soon as she sees ‘Superman’ (clearly a de-spectacled Kent) she turns into this soppy, giggling schoolgirl. For heaven’s sake, woman, you’re in your late twenties, get a grip! However, I’m getting ahead of myself here.

Actually, I didn’t enjoy meeting the famed Superman very much, I must confess. Allow me to recount the story.

Jimmy and myself were walking down the street from the doughnut emporium after I, being a wolf, had been banished by Perry from the building (for what it’s worth, Jimmy bought himself a coffee-caramel coated doughnut with sugar sprinkles, maybe this boy _does_ have an adventurous streak after all) and Jimmy spots a bank robbery in progress. Of course he can’t leave well alone and call the police — Frazer, for one, would have been there in a moment. Oh no, he has to pull out his camera and try to get _photos!_ Needless to say the hoodlums take him (and _me,_ I might add!) prisoner.

***

We’re taken to this abandoned warehouse. I’m later informed that there are many such buildings in Metropolis, and they all look the same, but I digress. It’s about two in the afternoon. I could overhear the conversations taking place clearly. They were very careful not to let Olsen hear what they were saying but were not at all bothered about whether _I_ could hear or not. This is something I’ve never understood. Humans seem to be under the illusion that us wolves cannot understand their speech. They were discussing what was to be done with "that goddam interfering kid…" (I assumed this meant Olsen) ‘…and his dog.’ (I’ve no idea about this one, the only companion Olsen had at the time was me, and anyone can see I’m a wolf). I gathered that the crooks (there were three of them) were called "Larry", "Sam" and "J.D."

In my capacity as undercover law enforcer, I dutifully undertook an information gathering role. I listened in to as much as I could, and what I have written down is as verbatim as memory will allow:

> Larry: Well, whadd’ya wanna do with him then?  
> Sam: Well, we could just kill him. That would be the easiest.  
> Larry: You moron. You’re a moron, d’ya hear me you’re a moron!  
> Sam: Hey, hey! Cool it! What’s up.  
> Larry: "Kill him"? If we were gonna do that we could have done that outside the bank when he started with the photography! We have him now. So _what are we gonna do with him?!_
> 
> (It seemed to me that Sam could scarcely be described as the brains of this particular outfit.)
> 
> J.D. Well, we can’t take him with us. What would Mr. Luthor say?

…Evidently this was a reference to their leader. I had suspected that these guys could be so efficient as to plan a bank robbery on their own. Their subsequent actions rather supported these suspicions.

***

The crooks, despite their rather silly costumes (comic book bad-guys, they’d have been arrested on leaving their homes in Chicago) were not stupid by any means — well, apart from Sam, who seemed to have an IQ of about room temperature (in an unheated, un-insulated room in Chicago in winter). They had deduced that Jimmy is a photographer for the _Daily Planet_ (although the fact that he was wearing his office-ID pinned to his jacket may have been a hint) and that he was "valuable" and would be missed (speaking for myself, I cannot imagine why). Thus, they decide to ransom him. They were all for cutting off the little finger of his left hand to send by way of a "warning", when the whinging little toad has to cry out for help.

I don’t see why he couldn’t have trusted me. His cries for help were, of course, completely unnecessary. After all of my years in my liasing capacity with the human police in Canada and in Chicago, I had a plan all worked out. I usually do, but nobody ever asks for my advice on anything. What’s the matter with them? Do they not think wolves can talk or something? The only reason I stay silent is politeness (I did once speak to someone, and their reaction was so extreme I vowed never to speak again unless spoken to, and I’ve been silent ever since). I had realised that escape would be relatively easy. We weren’t tied up or anything — the hoodlums had decided that in his state of terror young Olsen would be rooted to the spot unable to move, and they appeared correct.

And what would be so bad about losing the little finger of his left hand anyway? I mean he’s right handed (I saw him sign out of the _Daily Planet _building — there’s not much that gets past _my_ keen detective’s eyes), he doesn’t look musical and he doesn’t need it to operate his camera. You’d think it would be a small price to pay whilst waiting for justice to be done — and for me to hatch my escape plan — but _no_, he had to start screaming didn’t he? And, of course, he has to turn to the Metropolis MantraTM. Yes, in his own little whiny voice he chirrups "Superman, Superman!" and yes, Kent’s twin brother (I _don’t _think!) pops up to rescue us.

***

By the way, did I mention that I don’t like flying? Well I don’t, but does that stretched-lycra-loon bother to find this out? Oh no. Without so much as "fasten your seatbelts ladies and gentleman" I’m being bodily dragged up into the big blue and the three of us are hurtling along back in the direction of the _Daily Planet_. This buffoon is very lucky I didn’t throw up over him — Cat had been kind enough to give me some Belgian chocolates earlier, although I could have done without the "whose a cutie-wootie huggable-wuggable doggy-woggie" accompaniment. Even as I write this I’m still wondering how she ended up with the name "Cat". She’s nothing like the creatures I used to see in the mountains of Canada. Oh well, I digress again.

This, I should relate, was the point where Lois Lane’s nauseating fawning was most prevalent. Like I say, I can’t tell whether it’s acute myopia or acute stupidity, but she is totally unaware that this wall-of-testosterone whom she appears to consider the man of her dreams is the same guy who sits three feet from her every day of her working life being pointedly ignored by her? Does it never occur to her that they’re never seen in the same room? Given also that it is _painfully_ obvious that Kent is smitten big-time with her, you think she’d also draw the dots and work out she could _have_ Superman. Well, what can I say? That’s humans for you. This is what happens when your eyes are both on the front of your head I suppose — narrow vision.

Perry had by then relented on his previous "no wolves allowed" directive, as Jimmy and I (but mostly Jimmy, I suspect) had had a traumatic afternoon. Fortunately, Frazer had done what he needed to do (he doesn’t always appraise me of details) and we could go back to Chicago — but first, back to the…airport then.

Did I mention that I really don’t like flying?


End file.
